


My Kind

by unleashthebatsx



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, One Shot, Other, Party, Sad, Sad with a Happy Ending, Suicide Attempt, josh being a beautiful human being and tyler being a mess but it's okay, you could make it joshler if you squint but mostly it's their friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 06:12:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17482649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unleashthebatsx/pseuds/unleashthebatsx
Summary: Tyler can't enjoy being drunk just once without becoming a wreck.Josh is there to help him before he falls.





	My Kind

The dim room spun around him; fairy lights and faces a blur to his unfocused eyes. Tyler, dizzy on the three Smirnoff Ices he’d had earlier and using the wall to guide him, clambered past the dancers towards the sofa in the corner of the room. He pushed off of the wall, collapsed onto the pillows - giggling to himself a little, he realised just how drunk he was. Tyler wouldn’t call himself a lightweight, not openly at least, but it definitely didn’t take much to get him solidly under the influence. 

He let his leaden head loll on his neck; he felt like jelly, everything felt like jelly, and he felt so, so heavy. He couldn’t catch up with those moving around him – it was as though he had been put on half speed, or perhaps they had been put on double. And so he rested, slumped on the couch, gazing at the party-goers in front of him. He tried to lift his arm. _So heavy,_ he said again to himself. He let his eyes roam the room. An opened can of vodka-something sat abandoned on the side table. _It looks lonely,_ Tyler thought. _So lonely. Nobody should be lonely at a party._

He lurched forward, procured the can, and then flopped backwards once again. The liquid sloshed inside the quarter-empty can; any thought of _‘shit, what if this spills’_ arose too late in Tyler’s mind for him to prevent it. In any case, the drink remained inside its container, and Tyler’s carefully curated outfit remained dry. He examined the can, holding it close to his face as if he couldn’t read the words. Tyler didn’t need glasses, and he certainly wasn’t dyslexic, but the letters somehow seemed to change in front of his eyes. In the pool of white, the red lettering swam, mingling, mixing, and it was altogether much too confusing for the already fairly gone boy. 

All he needed to read was the small ‘7% ALC/VOL’ label on the front and that was enough persuasion for him to down the remnants of the can. The sugar masked the sting of the alcohol just enough (he wasn’t quite familiar enough with drinking to handle the burn that liquors and spirits made, so he preferred mixes). He felt his vision swim again as it entered his bloodstream – if he wasn’t sloshed before, he sure was now. 

Suddenly, Tyler was aware that he needed to pee. He heaved himself off the couch, and once standing he found that his limbs were weightless. It was the most incredible feeling – he stood for a moment and savoured it. All prior leadenness had abandoned his body, leaving him free. Without thinking his legs carried him down the hall, up the stairs, and to the first room he found. He knocked – his manners hadn’t left him, no matter how drunk he was – and then pushed the door open. 

It was not the bathroom he was looking for. The bedroom was mercifully empty (how Tyler would’ve hated to interrupt a busy couple – both for their sake and his) but the doors to its balcony were wide open, and enticingly inviting. The city glittered in the distance, all the shining lights calling to him from across the expanse of dark sea that separated them. Tyler stumbled through the room, eyes fixed on the reflections on the water. He stepped through the double doors; heaved a sigh of relief as the cool night air hit his flushed skin. As he leant against the painted railing, he realised, up here, above the noise, that no one was around. He didn’t have any friends – not here, anyways – and his parents didn’t know where he was. Besides, he was a legal adult anyways. 18. He never thought he’d make it. 

He observed the party below him. A few people had spilled out onto the front lawn, the music that pumped from the house slightly muffled but loud enough, apparently, for them to dance to on the grass. A couple swayed together, a group of friends chatted and laughed with drinks in hand. Tyler watched from above, separated from the entertainment. He wouldn’t say that he was envious, but the uncomfortable bubbling in his stomach proved him otherwise. 

He folded his arms on top of the railing and rested his chin on them. He was warm, pleasantly so, and yet something sour was on his tongue, a metallic tang at the back of his mouth. Despite the heat emanating from his body, his mind felt cold. Paralysed. Before he knew it, and without his permission, hot tears spilled over his waterline and streamed down his plump cheeks. 

“What the fuck,” he said in revolt, wiping his face with the back of his hand. God, he couldn’t even enjoy being drunk without ruining it all. 

He slumped down to the floor, his back against the railing now, and dropped his head into his hands. An unwelcome sob heaved his body, and Tyler decided to just give up on holding back. He sobbed with bitter earnest into his cupped hands, drawing his knees up to his body and letting go of all pretentions. 

_Why am I so fucked up?_ He cried to himself. _Why can’t I have one night where I don’t have to be reminded of what a waste of space I am?_

Tyler hated almost everything about himself, but he hated his brain most of all. His stupid, no good, worthless brain. Here were the rest of his organs, desperately pumping and churning and whatever else they do, struggling with all their might every hour of every day to keep him alive, and yet the one organ in control of it all wanted him dead. He couldn’t understand it, couldn’t fathom why it was that his brain was so fucked up. Why it wasn’t capable of producing one genuinely positive thought or emotion. Why he couldn't just be like every other person around him. 

His ears rang with white noise, and his face quickly became overheated and ruddy. His nose ran onto his shirt sleeves, tufts of hair stuck up at odd angles, and he had weird little wet patches on the knees of his jeans where they pressed into his eyes. This only served to send Tyler further into a state, and before he knew it he was sobbing harder than before. 

And then he stopped. He couldn’t say it was clarity, it was more just like an immense nothingness that came over him. His crying ceased, leaving behind just raspy breathing and swollen eyes. It dawned on him that he felt nothing, cared for nothing, wanted nothing. He couldn’t hear, couldn’t see, and couldn’t feel. He stepped up onto the railing, balancing up there. The breeze was even colder against his wet face now. With one hand he held onto the column beside him for balance, and he stretched the other out. 

He felt the air flow past his fingers, felt it tousle his dark hair. Tyler longed to soar on the wind, to fly across the reflective surface of the sea and over that sparkling city, that city in all its neon-lit glory and glamour. But he knew that even if he did, nothing awaited him there. Below the glittering lights were office buildings, grey streets swamped with litter and workers just finishing late night shifts. Drunks and homeless people, drug addicts and tax evaders. Promises of fame and fortune but none of the fulfilment. He wondered whether it was not just better to let go, to instead of soar across the sky to soar straight down – directly down onto concrete and freshly-mown lawn and whatever cans or bottles littered the ground. To cease feeling for real, just like he’d been planning for years. He wondered why he hadn’t already done it. 

He let one finger curl back into his palm, then another, until he was holding onto the column with just two fingers. His heels balanced on the edge of the railing, toes hanging over the end. He glanced down. Nobody had taken any notice – they continued their conversations as if everything was normal. The couple from before had slunk off inside, unaware. And fuck, if that didn’t describe the reaction of most people in his life to his blatant struggling then he wasn’t sure what did. It was a bitter irony that brought no joy to him despite his derisive laugh. 

Tyler closed his eyes. He was still warm – whether from the crying or the alcohol he couldn’t tell – but he didn’t feel very drunk right now. He felt stone cold sober. He let one more finger release its grip. He leaned forward a little more, rocked back and forwards, and then – 

 

Then, he felt a strong arm hook around his waist and yank him back. He fell backwards onto the person’s chest. His legs hit the floor heavily and both fell to the ground, the person’s grip crushingly harsh around his chest now. Tyler yelled and kicked and tried to break loose – he didn’t want someone to pull him back and save him, he wanted to hit the cement and his head to split and his bones to break and to feel nothing for the rest of eternity – he didn’t want to be here anymore, he didn’t want to be a liability for anyone else, he wanted to be gone, gone, gone, gone. 

“Shh, I’ve got you,” the man said, voice soothing but firm. “Stop fighting,” he said to Tyler as he writhed in his arms. 

At that, Tyler froze, and then totally yielded to the man. He didn’t even bother to look up to the face of his rescuer, he just buried his head in the man’s well-built chest and started sobbing again. Tyler curled up against him and as he heaved, the man gently stroked his back. He knew somewhere in the back of his mind that this was weird, that it was at best embarrassing and at worst dangerous to be crying on this stranger, but right now he didn’t care, just lapped up any attention and soothing words the stranger would give him. 

Eventually, as the heaving subsided, Tyler peeled himself off the man and sat up a little. He refused to look him in the face, rather focussing his puffy eyes on the man’s jeans. He hiccupped, breath coming in short intakes. That embarrassment from before came flooding to the foreground of his mind, and he was disgusted with himself for how he’d let go. 

“I’m Josh,” the man said calmly. His tone was low and soft – Tyler appreciated that. “Can you tell me your name?” he inquired gently.

Tyler shook his head a little, fresh tears springing to his eyes. He couldn’t speak. 

“It’s alright,” he assured him. 

Josh took Tyler’s hand in his own, patted the back of it reassuringly and then let go. 

“It’s not easy, living. But this isn’t the way.” 

Josh didn’t think he was any good at words. But when the other boy’s eyes flitted up to meet his for the first time, he knew he’d said the right thing. Maybe he couldn’t summon elegant speeches out of thin air, but his lacking ability was enough right now. 

“There we go,” Josh said warmly. 

Tyler let out a short huff of air in spite of himself and the situation, a sort of semi-laugh. He averted his gaze back to his lap. 

“I-I’m Tyler,” he said, voice hoarse. _Stupid god damn throat,_ he thought. _Stupid god damn brain, stupid life, stupid, stupid, stupid, can't do anything right._ Tyler’s hands furled in on themselves, twisting and tumbling over one another as his short nails bit into his skin. 

“Hey, hey,” Josh said, pulling Tyler’s hands apart and holding each one in his own. Tyler noted how calloused his palms were, and yet, they were still so soft. Something more in the way he used them than the actual texture. 

He closed his eyes, released a shuddering sigh. 

“Sorry,” Tyler said. 

“It’s okay,” Josh replied, a small, comforting smile curving his mouth and crinkling the corners of his halfmoon eyes. “It’s all going to be okay.” 

And as Tyler looked up to meet his eyes again, he felt the tiniest glimmer of hope that maybe, after all he’s been through, maybe it will be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you my dears for reading, I hope that you enjoyed this short one shot (if so, please leave kudos and feel free to comment - I love and appreciate them all). this is my first time writing tyler and josh but i hope it's alright. have a wonderful rest of your day/evening/night and remember that i love you and that it's worth it to keep going. x


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